


tutorial

by belovedmuerto



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Kissing, M/M, this is a kissing fic, unspecific modern-ish high school-ish AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 11:26:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13589076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedmuerto/pseuds/belovedmuerto
Summary: “I’m pretty sure I’m a terrible kisser,” Steve mutters, mostly to his pencil and paper.





	tutorial

**Author's Note:**

> LOL I came home from work and wrote 2400 words of Bucky teaching Steve to kiss today how was your Monday?
> 
> This is totally unbeta'd and all that jazz, and in fact i wrote it in about an hour and a half and haven't even really read it over so sorry not sorry.
> 
> ETA: I got the prompt from this lovely fluff prompt generator: http://kogami.tumblr.com/fluffgen

“Buck, are you a good kisser?”

Bucky catches the ball he’s been tossing in the air, and looks over at Steve, sprawled on his floor doodling in his sketchbook.

“I haven’t had any complaints.”

Bucky doesn’t miss Steve’s sigh, or how forceful it is. He doesn’t know where this is going, or why. But he does know Steve, and he knows to tread carefully here.

“What’s up, Stevie.”

Steve shrugs, and he doesn’t speak for a long time. Bucky waits. In this, he is patience itself.

“I’m pretty sure I’m a terrible kisser,” Steve mutters, mostly to his pencil and paper.

Bucky tries to keeps his voice light. “Aw, pal. That’s cuz you ain’t had much practice yet. You’ll get there, super fast. You’re a quick learner. You’ll find someone who wants to be kissing on you so soon. You’ll see.”

Steve shrugs again, still not looking at Bucky. Bucky tosses the ball again, watching Steve out of the corner of his eyes, careful not to let on that he’s watching.

Steve is working up to asking something, and Bucky’s heart is pounding, thinking about what it might be.

“Could you give me some pointers?”

Bucky’s heart skips a beat, and his breath halts entirely for approximately an eternity. Somehow, his voice doesn’t come out choked or hoarse when he asks, “What, like a tutorial?” Now he does turn his head to look over at Steve. Steve is still staring at his sketchbook, fiddling with his pencil. Bucky can just see the outlines of his own body on the page, a reflection of himself that he’s gotten used to seeing over the years, that he’s come to take for granted: that Steve is always drawing him, and always making him look better than he really does.

Steve is amazing. He’s gonna be huge one day.

“Yeah,” Steve says, and it takes a minute for Bucky to remember what he’s saying yes to.

He forces a chuckle, just a little one. It comes out a little high and strained, a little bit wrong. “Steve, it’s best learned hands on, yanno?”

Steve sighs again, and he finally looks up at Bucky on the bed, his brow furrowed, his eyes stormy. Bucky knows that look. It’s as likely to get him punched as it is to get anything else. Steve is absolutely going to stubborn his way through this.

Bucky gives in, even if just in his own mind. This is, apparently, about to happen.

He might have a heart attack, his heart is beating so fast.

Does Steve know?

“Well,” Steve says. “I mean--” he cuts himself off with a noise, like a snort. 

Bucky gets how he feels. There’s almost no way this ends well, that this ends before Steve can figure out _how Bucky feels_. Hell, he’ll be lucky if he doesn’t pop wood just from thinking about kissing Steve.

He’s a goner.

He aims for cocky, for bravado. “You want me to show you the ropes, huh?” 

When Steve glares at him, he winks. Steve rolls his eyes, but at least he isn’t glaring anymore. “Well, I know you won’t make fun of me for being terrible.”

“Like fuck I won’t.”

“Yeah, but it’s just you.”

Bucky gets that. “Yeah.”

If he’s being honest, Bucky’s actually only kissed three people, but he hasn’t had any complaints from any of them, he wasn’t lying. But this. This is Steve.

He’s literally going to die.

“Okay, fine. Come over here and plant one on me, Steve.”

Steve blinks at him. “No need to sound so enthused about it, Buck.” He rolls his eyes again as he climbs to his feet, brushing off his front, and comes over to sit at Bucky’s hip on the bed. He wipes his hands on his thighs as he sits, looking down at Bucky. “Are you gonna sit up, or?”

It’s Bucky’s turn to blink, up at Steve looming over him, color high, breath a little short.

For a brief moment, he wonders if Steve is about to have an asthma attack, before he remembers that Steve seems to have outgrown the asthma, finally, in just the past year or so.

“Yeah, I’ll--” it comes out breathless, and oh shit he’s giving everything away. Absolutely everything is written all over his face, and he sits up, putting his face _really_ fucking close to Steve’s and--

Steve kisses him. Just, literally, plants one on him.

It’s pretty terrible.

Bucky smiles into it; he can’t help himself. God, he loves Steve so much. Their noses bump, and Steve makes a frustrated noise and pulls away, and then glares at Bucky and punches him in the arm as hard as he can.

It’s a lot harder than it used to be. Steve’s finally started to grow into himself. Bucky breathes a sigh of relief every time he thinks about how sick Steve used to get, all the time.

“You’re laughing at me,” Steve accuses, but Bucky knows him well enough that he hears the hurt under it.

Bucky holds up his hands. “I’m not, I swear.”

“Dammit Buck, are you gonna help or not?”

“I am! Chill, Steve, give me a sec to think about it.”

Steve scoots back a bit and crosses his arms, still glaring. “You’re the worst.”

“I know, you love me.”

Steve looks away, and Bucky. Notices.

“OK,” he says. “OK, so the first thing is. Noses.”

Steve looks back at him, wary. “Yes. I have a nose. You gonna make fun of my nose now, too?”

Bucky throws up his hands. Trust Steve to ask Bucky to make out with him, and then make it _as difficult as humanly possible_. “For fuck’sake Steve, would you just let me do this?!”

Steve looks away again, and then shrugs a little and looks back. He takes a deep breath, and visibly forces his shoulders down, uncrosses his arms. He’s blushing hard, all the way down his neck.

“As I was saying,” Bucky says, making a face. “Noses get in the way, so one of you needs to tilt your head a little. It can be kinda hot to like.” Bucky glances away, quickly. “Tilt the other person’s head. If you’ve like, got your hands on their head. Their face, or neck or whatever.”

Steve scoots closer, and Bucky’s breath catches. This is actually happening. Holy shit.

“Show me,” Steve says. Orders, really. Bucky should not find that hot, but he really, _really_ does.

“OK, yeah. Sure.” 

He’s gonna go for it. He really is.

Bucky scoots closer to Steve, and he puts one hand on Steve’s neck, and the other on his face. First he puts it over Steve’s face, just to be silly, just to break the tension a little bit, and Steve snorts and licks his hand, and they both giggle a little, and Bucky quickly wipes his hand on his leg before he puts it back, cradling Steve’s face, like he’s something precious. Like he’s something Bucky loves.

For a moment, Bucky just looks at him. Steve’s looking back at him, eyes wide with something Bucky does not want to examine right now. He tilts Steve’s head just a little to the side, and he leans in, brushing their noses together, close enough that Steve can probably feel his breath on his lips. Steve’s breath hitches, and his eyes fall shut, and Bucky takes a deep breath before he brushes his lips against Steve’s, just once, before going back to brushing their noses together. Just a taste, barely even a kiss.

He’s doing it because he likes it; this is how he likes to kiss, soft and slow. Unhurried. None of the people he’s ever kissed has taken their time with it, and he wants that. He wants Steve to have that, to be kissed soft and slow.

“Like this,” he murmurs, and kisses him again, a little bit more contact this time, gentle brushes of lips. Steve’s lips are chapped, and catch against his own. Steve’s eyes are still shut, and Bucky pulls back just far enough so he can see. 

Steve is holding on to him, his long artist’s fingers wrapped around Bucky’s wrists. Bucky likes that. 

“Okay?” he asks. 

It takes a moment for Steve to open his eyes. “Yeah.” He smiles a little. He’s still holding Bucky’s wrists.

“You taking notes?”

Steve makes a face. “Don’t baby me, Bucky.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, and doesn’t wait for Steve to keep talking, just leans in and kisses him again. If this is the only time he gets to kiss his best friend, he’s going to make the most of it. He’s going to take his time with it.

His stomach feels like it’s fallen down to his feet, and he’s breathless already, just from a tiny little kiss. He has no idea how Steve could possibly miss how Bucky so obviously feels about him, but he’s not pulling away, he’s not laughing at Bucky, at how pathetic he is.

He’s making a little noise in his throat, and he’s leaning into the kiss, still holding Bucky’s wrists, sighing into it, so Bucky keeps going. Keeps kissing him, a little deeper now, but still slow. It’s achingly slow, even as Bucky is utterly falling apart, getting to kiss Steve.

Steve is starting to respond, too. Starting to kiss him back, soft, soft. Moving his lips a little, catching Bucky’s bottom lip between his own, and Bucky had said nothing about that. Nothing about how it makes him feel, how it makes everything in him clench in desire, in want, in _yearning_ and oh-- that noise is coming from Bucky.

Steve murmurs something against his lips; he has no idea what but it’s comforting, it’s soft and comforting and Steve’s hands run down his arms, slide around his waist, and Steve is hauling himself closer, Bucky is moving closer to him, brushing his thumb against Steve’s jaw, tilting his head just a little further and Steve’s tongue brushes against the seam of his lips and Bucky gasps, and--

Now there’s tongue, and Steve is picking this up far too quickly, Bucky is falling apart completely, he wants to cry, he wants this never to end, he wants to hide.

Steve murmurs again, sliding his tongue against Bucky’s, tracing his teeth, exploring him, taking him apart.

Bucky might actually be crying. This is the worst thing ever. This is the best thing ever. Steve is going to hate him, when he realizes. He’s ruining everything, and he can’t. Stop. Kissing. Steve.

Steve’s hand is under his shirt, at the small of his back, fingers a little cool against his skin, where he’s burning up, and he can’t, he can’t, he can’t--

Bucky tears away with a gasp that is altogether too close to a sob. His breath heaves, and he can’t look at Steve. He can’t look at what he’s done. But he can’t leave, either, he can’t pull away entirely because this is Steve. His other half, his best friend, and he can’t let everything just be entirely ruined. Not by him. No matter how much he wants to hide, no matter how much he doesn’t want to face this.

He hides his face against Steve’s neck, trying to calm his breathing, trying to figure out if he actually is crying or if it’s just raining on his face or something, isn’t that weird? Bucky is not a crier, he never has been. He’s always been the strong one. 

Steve’s got his arms tight around him, mumbling nonsense in his ear. It doesn’t last long though. He feels Steve draw back a little, his one hand running up and down Bucky’s back, the other going to his neck. “Hey, Buck? You OK?”

Steve doesn’t sound entirely unmoved, and Bucky takes a little bit of comfort in that. He nods against Steve’s neck.

“Look, I know I’m terrible at this, but if you’re gonna laugh at me, you might as well laugh at my face, OK?”

 _What. That’s not--_ Bucky looks up, and Steve grabs him to keep him from hiding again, hands on his neck, not letting him look away. Bucky feels his eyes go wide, because that is _not_ fair.

“You’re not,” Bucky insists. “I’m just.” He makes a noise, angry at himself. He’s ruining this. He’s ruining everything.

Steve shakes his head, searching Bucky’s face. “You’re not.”

Bucky lets his eyes fall shut. He can’t look at Steve anymore, he can’t watch Steve read his every thought and feeling on his face. He can’t face it. 

“Buck,” Steve says, after a moment, chiding. 

Bucky tries to pull away, half-hearted at best. Steve’s fingers against his neck feel like they’re searing him to the bone. Imprinting on his soul.

“I’m gonna kiss you again, OK?”

Bucky nods, and keeps his eyes shut, and falls into his second ever kiss with his best friend. Things go a little fuzzy, because Steve really is a damn fast-learner, in this as in everything else, and Bucky moans a little, and that’s it, he’s done. He can die now, any second now.

Steve is the one to gentle the kiss after untold eternities of making out on Bucky’s bed, gentle it and soften it and press little kisses along Bucky’s jaw, there and back again, pressing one last little kiss to the corner of his mouth, and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s.

“Thanks, Buck,” he says after a while. He sounds almost as stricken as Bucky feels. “That was informative.”

“I hate you,” Bucky mumbles. He can’t even manage to open his eyes yet, he’s never been so thoroughly kissed in his entire life.

He can hear Steve smiling in his voice, “You love me.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees.

“Were you gonna tell me?” 

Bucky opens his eyes, enough to see the way Steve is looking at him, and closes them again. “Maybe. Eventually. You planned this.”

“Well, you’ve been ignoring all the flirting I’ve been doing.”

“You’re terrible at flirting, Stevie.” He’s smiling a little now, as the ice around his heart, threatening to shatter it, starts to thaw.

“Well, you can teach me to flirt next.”

**Author's Note:**

> Steve has absolutely been planning this for months, while hoping Bucky would get his head out of his ass.
> 
> belovedmuerto.tumblr.com


End file.
